Qunari Issues? You Sure?
by Reyavie
Summary: Because you can't keep an Amell from butting her head into other people's business.


_AN - Because someone said I was missing some people for a full set._

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><p>Gerard wasn't sure what he would find once he reached the Keep. People being tortured, probably. A Viscount forced to capitulate, Qunari partying – though the Arishok dancing was enough to give him nightmares. Instead, he enters an extremely silent room. Filled up with nobles, of course, many qunari, couple of guards and a good dozen of Grey Wardens. Right in the middle, their Commander and an unconscious Arishok.<p>

Bright minds think alike and plans work out just fine at times.

"Thanks for coming, cousin."

The blonde woman smiles a smile that's all happiness and absolutely no concern; even adds a little wave like a girl in the schoolyard.

"Oh, don't mention it. Cullen's been driving me nuts about finding someone to take the front of battle instead of playing warrior." She kicks the huge Qunari's armor lightly, like a kid prodding a wild dog. How did she beat the guy anyway? He doesn't look that harmed except for this… huge…bump. Thing? Something red and egg shaped on his forehead. "This will work just nicely."

"What have you done, mage? _Just what is going on here_?"

Ah. Of course. Time to deal with the crazy woman. Gerard pushes both sleeves up, mentally prepares his vast array of bullshit – he deals with Varric on a daily basis, that has its perks – and faces the tent haired Templar. Meredith spits a lot while screaming. It's not fun.

"You have said to deal with the Qunari, Commander," he says slowly. "It can't be dealt more than this."

"I didn't say to do this!"

To finish up a battle with virtually no blood and no effort? It's like the woman would find it messed up if he offered up the city wrapped up in a bright red ribbon. Sure, the Viscount died. One can't have everything.

"Excuse me, Knight-Commander. When you are done screaming at my cousin?" Diana approaches, her chin barely reaching his shoulder and a pleasant little smile on her blonde covered expression as she takes his arm.

Meredith doesn't seem to know how to respond to actual politeness from a mage. Miracles do happen.

"Yes?"

"Yes, _Warden-Commander_," The Warden corrects absently. "Or Warden. Or Commander. You should get used to the last one, now that I think about it."

"Excuse me?"

"Excused. I invoke the right of conscription due to overwhelming necessity. Guys. Take her away."

Considering Gerard has seen the woman take down a Qunari mage without breaking a sweat, it's definitely new how he just stands back with his cousin, watching as the small company of Wardens makes short job of taking Meredith's weapon away, armor to the side and tying her like she'll kill half of them if released. Which she probably would.

"Necessity?" He asks while the show is still on and where did the snacks come from?

"My ears hurt, she was shouting too much." Despair cheese, that's what she's eating. It shouldn't surprise him she's wealthy enough to bring around fancy cheese. He does wonder where she stored it during a would-be civil war. "That and you definitely need her away from positions of power or you'll find yourself cleaning up guts, most likely your own. Chantry taught me that. Breakfast when the rubble's more or less cleared?"

Gerard ponders briefly over that mental image and how it should destroy his appetite. It doesn't. He pops another piece of cheese in before she ends with it all.

"With pleasure, cousin."

Behind them, one of the Wardens – who looks suspiciously like a Templar – mutters _Amells_ like it is the worst insult since the beginning of the world.

"Alright, I am done with this madness. Done! Hawke!" Orsino jumps out of bloody nowhere, flaming hands and a pointy finger digging into his forehead. "I hereby declare you as Champion of Kirkwall!"

"Wha?" There might be a crack somewhere in his head. Or his ears are malfunctioning. Only the crazy elf looks a little too serious – and deranged – for his taste. "Hey! Why? I didn't do anything."

He supposes he did save the city in this odd incredibly roundabout way but where does that mean he deserves responsibility?

"Because someone needs to clean the mess and as it was you who thought it to be a good idea to invite the Warden for a small dinner, you'll be it."

The logic is killing him.

It's also killing one of the Wardens.

"They are giving power to an _Amell_? Are they all drunk?"

That's when he smiles. And when that particular Warden takes a step back.

**xxxXXXxxx**

"Diana. Love. There is a Qunari, Kirkwall's Knight-Commander."

"She's not one anymore," his wife pipes in calmly, snacks disappearing underneath her fingers and between her lips.

"_Ex_-Knight-Commander then," Cullen amends wearily, as if he truly doesn't care. He doesn't. "And Justice._ Anders_."

"Justiders. Antice. Justicanders. Last one makes him sound like candy."

"_Whomever it is_. They are all in the Keep's yard. _Why_ are they all in the Keep's yard?"

Diana opens her mouth, closes it, frowns a little, bites her way down her lower lip before opening her mouth again.

"On the bright side! Kirkwall's deadly friendly for mages right about now. We should visit soon. My cousin promised a royal welcome."

Cullen finds that the best way to make sense of this is beat his head against a nearby table. Then a good old potion swept away from Taranis – who is an awesome potion maker for an ex-Divine, Andraste damnit it – and he'll be right as rain.

"Why did I marry you?"

It's a rhetoric question but Diana doesn't bother to pay attention to that little detail. "Because I look good in skirts and you're a leg man?"

True. Damnit.

"And why are you eating so much anyway?" Cullen asks, anything to forget his personal Fade nightmare on Earth.

"Eating for two."

_WHAT?_

"Jowan's on a diet. You flipping moron."

He ponders seriously on taking an early Calling.


End file.
